re / justice.

i want to be seen clearly, or not at all.

[yeshens]

* moved to @yishuns♥

[aicidos]

❝ don’t say you can’t accept that this is the end. ❞ lol. akira

twilight princess sentences.   ♡  * @rejusticed.

he liked to think that, for the most part, he had kept his wits about himself. 

the blood that trailed his face when he first ripped off the mask and the blood running down in a neat trail left by the bullet, it was still the same in composition. but akira wasn’t. the things he had lost, the things he had gained, and the things he was about to lose again. akechi made it a point to tear the fabric of this reality, and akira had never known serenity could be so morbid. 

akechi held the metaphorical gun, still, only now towards himself. akira supposed he would help him pull the trigger if it meant touching his hand one last time. 

he knew akechi wanted to hear his voice, but more specifically, wanted to hear him say it. and hidden under the hermetically-sealed semblance of composure were the fresh punctures to his heart. he had known since day one. maruki’s confirmation was a useless reminder at best, and a cruel form of leverage at worst. it was, above all, a wakeup call of akira’s own hypocrisy; the rest of the phantom thieves had snapped out of their solipsistic delusions, why shouldn’t he?

“...it’s been over a while ago.” he admitted, and was surprised at himself at how simple it sounded, even to him. the truth could sometimes be just that. simple. a shame that never translated into ‘easy’. “that i can accept it doesn’t mean i wanted it to end like this.”

[rejusticed]

❝ will you rescue me if someone goes wrong? ❞ akira bein cheeky but more importantly embarrassing

the way kurusu’s capacity for brilliance was counterpointed by his penchant for being a trusting fool never ceased to amaze akechi. akechi had never purported to be on the phantom thieves’ side, let alone on kurusu’s; in fact, he’d made clear from the beginning that their alliance was an entirely transactional one, and more relevantly, that it would only be temporary.

trust kurusu to be a sentimental fool, so easily falling for the act anyway.

as if akechi could’ve grown fond of this ragtag group of thieves and changed his mind about disbanding them in the time it took to change niijima’s heart.

akechi hadn’t built a reputation on suffering fools, but he could humor this one, whatever little time kurusu had left for it.

“rest assured,” akechi lies through his teeth, smiling all the while, “you can trust me to watch your back.”

@aicidos, prompt.

[rejusticed]

❝ go on, pull the trigger. ❞ LOL

even in the face of death, akechi thinks, you’re infuriating.

it’s clear, in this moment, that if akechi means to hurt akira, shooting him won’t do it. ever since shedding robin hood for loki, the detective has had to throw out a lot of things he thought he knew about the thief; but there were some tells that akechi didn’t think he was reading wrong. the glint in akira’s eye, the challenge on his lips, the resolve straightening his shoulders.

for all that he was taunting akechi, akira doesn’t seem resigned to his fate. he seems… expectant, even. like he’d accounted for akechi pulling the trigger. like he’d anticipated akechi’s moves. like he was daring akechi to finalize his act of betrayal.

akechi takes a step back. upon reflection, hasn’t akira always been this way? enigmatic, to the point of mystery; amiable, to the point of meekness; helpful, to the point of self sacrifice.

no, akira certainly never did things by halves.

akechi’s voice is flat when he speaks. “do you think i won’t?” his head tilts. “or do you wish i would?”

@aicidos, prompt.

[rejusticed]

❝ if we had met earlier in life, do you think that we would have been friends? ❞

“i don’t do friends, kitagawa.” it’s a testament to how late into the endgame they are that akechi’s tone doesn’t contain his normal levels of vitriol. there is only a line of tiredness hugging the curve his spine, resigned as he is to the twisted pull of fate and the hand that wielded it. he’s so past being angry about things. being angry about things was reserved for a time before the red sky, before the world’s end, before akechi died and came back to life. being angry helped nothing, concealed nothing. akechi is not angry, and if he repeats this enough times, surely he will start to believe it.

“and certainly,” he says, willing conviction into the words, as if he only had to say them forcefully enough for it to be true, “i could never be friends with the likes of you all.”

(and maybe if he tells himself that enough times too, he’ll believe it. and if not… then it was just one last lie to keep him company for the road.)

@artifye, prompt.

[justpyre-deactivated20250817]

there is action, exhibition, the film flickering on its projector as a hand spools and spools, then there's his exit with all its gunfire and explosions; an exit is not a finale, and ohta knew he'd leave long before the movie finished, rewrote until sei's role became inescapable and necessary, [ and of course sei botches that, stands in the engine room on ohta's marker and thinks he can face ohta's doom, and of course ohta saves him; ohta always planned to save him, even if that made him a fool, ] so maybe he leaves something worthwhile behind other than death and anger. ohta dies, as planned, and sei lives, as planned, and shido falls, as planned, and finally things are going right.

then god happens, then maruki happens, then ohta wakes up like he never left. he's damn tired of others interfering.

❝ hey, little brother, ❞ he sighs, detects the others mixed emotions and swallows his own, ❝ i see you're doing well. ❞ the laundromat air tastes stale — like an old, mothballed closet, the sort they hid in as kids when playing make-believe — but he refuses to do this at leblanc; akira sees too much, and ohta hates his reflection looking back in those glasses, knowing he approached the thief before sei hoping to unravel the weight in his chest screaming wrong, wrong, wrong. akira fails in that, but, in fairness, so does ohta.

“if you die on me again, i’ll kill you,” makes him stare. there's rage in it. so you can die, he thinks, heated, so you can die instead? i would die a thousand times over, you brat.

❝ we have work to do, ❞ comes instead, clipped and unsurprised. sei realized, too. ❝ you can work with us or sit on the sidelines quietly. ❞

[rejusticed]

there is a guttural sound building in the back of his throat. sei bites it off before it gets the chance to fully form into either laughter or a sob, since that would be telling, and.

he freezes with the realization that oh, everything he says or does now can and will be used against him.

the sentiment is both familiar and not at the same time. familiar, as in: as goro akechi, being a public figure necessitated that every move he made, every word he spoke be calculated. foreign, as in:

picture a press conference. media personnel swarm the room. goro akechi holds court on the other end of the microphones.

goro akechi, as in, ohta and sei.

as in, it was always: them, against the world.

so the jarring part was this: when did the metaphor warp, the mob shifting into shadow shifting into an interrogation room, with ohta on one end and sei on the other?

the pang of betrayal hits him after a few weeks worth of lag time. he should’ve seen this coming, sei thinks: some detective he is— but then again, it’s just one more thing in a long string of things that he doesn’t. his older brother has always been better at playing the long game, and it’s clear now that death didn’t take ohta by surprise.

perhaps sei had been too conceited in thinking that he was better at playing people. but that wasn’t quite right. rather, he hadn’t known that ohta should’ve been included in the general category of people. but he knows better now.

when did it stop being them, against the world?

in response, he hums noncommittally. “or i could go get myself killed without consulting you.” he pauses for dramatic effect here. then, with a snap of his fingers, adds, “oh, wait, that’s your move.”

when did things change, for ohta? sei finds himself needing to know desperately, however destructive the answer may be. he needs to know the rules of this new game if he doesn’t want to be left behind, again.

“we, us, you’re using awfully familiar terms for you and those people.” he doesn’t bother keeping the bitterness in, doesn’t subdue the accusation of when did we stop meaning you and me, “do you think they even know who you are?”

[rejusticed]

get in we're going to go kill god

um i passed the driving test for us. shouldn't i drive

[edenmemes]

cowboy bebop starters

❝ i can’t tell when you’re joking and when you’re not. ❞ ❝ you look ridiculous in that outfit. ❞ ❝ when we show fear, it jumps at us faster than light. ❞ ❝ go on, pull the trigger. ❞ ❝ guess you’ll have to chalk it up to bad luck. ❞ ❝ whatever happens, happens. ❞ ❝ how long were you there? i didn’t hear you come in. ❞ ❝ some promises are made to be broken. ❞ ❝ you’ve already caused me enough trouble. ❞ ❝ i’m fully aware of the danger. ❞ ❝ why do you do all of this? for money? some sort of revenge? or perhaps just for fun? ❞ ❝ the more you know, the shorter your life will be. ❞ ❝ let’s just say my past is catching up to me. ❞ ❝ go ahead and run. how far do you think you’ll get? ❞ ❝ i want to get out of this life. ❞ ❝ i’ll be with you. until the end. ❞ ❝ you’re lucky you got away with only this scratch on your arm. ❞ ❝ stick your neck out too far, and you’ll get it cut. ❞ ❝ i was starting to worry about you. ❞ ❝ i thought i’d say goodbye, since it’ll be the last i’ll be seeing you. ❞ ❝ you know the first rule of combat? shoot them before they shoot you. ❞ ❝ you’ve never told me anything about yourself. ❞ ❝ hey there, having a little trouble? ❞ ❝ do you have any idea what you look like? a ravenous beast. ❞ ❝ this is strictly business. ❞ ❝ are you pleading for your life? ❞ ❝ i love the kind of woman that can kick my ass. ❞ ❝ remember: a snake cannot eat a dragon. ❞ ❝ you came all the way here to see me? ❞ ❝ belonging is the very best thing there is. ❞ ❝ there was no place for me to return to. this was the only place i could go. ❞ ❝ they lead you like a lamb to slaughter. ❞ ❝ if we had met earlier in life, do you think that we would have been friends? ❞ ❝ i’m not a criminal. woah…that makes me sound more like a criminal, doesn’t it? ❞ ❝ you know what they say. easy come, easy go. ❞ ❝ no one can draw a clear line between sane and insane. you move that line as you see fit for yourself. ❞ ❝ don’t try to talk anymore. we’ll have a doctor in a few minutes. ❞ ❝ why do you have to go? ❞ ❝ i know who you are. i’ve heard about you. ❞ ❝ you should see yourself right now. ❞ ❝ so, you’re finally awake. ❞ ❝ either way, we were destined to end up like this. ❞ ❝ that threat doesn’t work on me anymore. ❞ ❝ a star just fell from the sky. ❞ ❝ we should’ve never taken such a risk. ❞ ❝ your heart is colder than any planet. ❞ ❝ of the days that i have lived, only those i spent with you felt real. ❞ ❝ what’s wrong? lost your nerve? ❞ ❝ hello there, my friend, welcome to hell. ❞ ❝ how long were you in there listening? ❞ ❝ i have no fear of death. it just means dreaming in silence. ❞ ❝ you’re kidding yourself if you think every person is like you. they’re not. ❞ ❝ you told me once to forget the past, but you’re the one still tied to it. ❞ ❝ before i knew it, the dream was all over ❞ ❝ angels banished from heaven have no choice but to become devils. ❞ ❝ having ourselves a little nap, huh? ❞ ❝ time never stands still. ❞ ❝ you are a part of me that i had lost. ❞ ❝ you’re a good shot. ❞ ❝ let’s go somewhere. just the two of us. ❞ ❝ so, there is no place for me after all. ❞ ❝ there is nothing in this world to believe in. ❞ ❝ when this is over, i’m getting out of it. all of it. ❞ ❝ shit. this whole thing gives me a headache. ❞ ❝ the same blood runs through both of us. ❞ ❝ if there’s anyone who needs pity here, it’s you. ❞ ❝ why are you still alive? ❞ ❝ so, how about it? you’ll have a little drink, won’t you? ❞ ❝ once you let your teeth in something, you never let go of it. ❞ ❝ i’m not in a great mood right now, all right? ❞ ❝ what, you think you’re too good to talk to me? ❞ ❝ everything’s broken around this place. ❞ ❝ didn’t your grandmother ever tell you to finish what you start? ❞ ❝ i’ll meet you at the end of this world. ❞ ❝ you were always waiting for me. and that’s all i needed. you. ❞ ❝ what are you spacing out about? ❞ ❝ what are you going to do? throw away your life like it was nothing? ❞ ❝ i’m watching a dream i’ll never wake up from. ❞ ❝ i’m not the type to be led around. ❞ ❝ it’s so like you to worry about things. ❞ ❝ come on out. you can’t run anymore. ❞ ❝ don’t give me that art of war crap. ❞ ❝ you’re a strange one, aren’t you? ❞ ❝ this could be a trap. ❞ ❝ for some reason, i didn’t feel sad. it just didn’t seem real. ❞ ❝ if i tell you, i’d have to kill you. ❞ ❝ now, don’t get hotheaded. ❞ ❝ there’s something you’re looking for, isn’t there? something you need to find? ❞ ❝ if you wanna know something, let me see some cash. ❞ ❝ hey, i said i was sorry. ❞ ❝ i don’t know who you are and i don’t really give a damn. ❞ ❝ if you want to receive, you must first give. ❞ ❝ i had a little trouble, but it’s nothing i can’t handle. ❞ ❝ tell me what you’re doing here. ❞ ❝ we either deceive or are deceived. we flourish or perish. ❞ ❝ you don’t give up, do you? ❞ ❝ if you want to survive, you’ll have to betray me at times. ❞ ❝ i had no idea the view from up here would be so breathtaking. ❞ ❝ damn…all that work and no reward. ❞ ❝ don’t come back. there won’t be a place for you. ❞ ❝ i haven’t committed any crimes. well…at least not bad ones. ❞ ❝ doing things like this won’t bring you any good. ❞ ❝ what happened to your generosity? ❞ ❝ i’ve never had anything good happen to me when i trusted others. ❞ ❝ little by little, i felt something inside of me go numb. ❞ ❝ thank god i can finally relax. take a little breather. ❞ ❝ come on, hang in there, you hear me? ❞ ❝ do not fear death. death is always at our side. ❞ ❝ you’re in a good mood today. ❞ ❝ i don’t know why i’m telling you all this. i feel like i’m in a confession booth. ❞ ❝ you’ve never listened to anyone in your whole life. ❞ ❝ we’re supposed to be a team here, you know. ❞ ❝ you’re avoiding the subject and you know it. what are you trying to hide from me? ❞ ❝ to our new alliance, and perhaps even friendship. ❞ ❝ when something goes wrong, someone must take responsibility. ❞ ❝ what’s your problem? you wanna fight? ❞ ❝ don’t try anything. ❞ ❝ you’ve got a bit of mercy in you, haven’t you? ❞ ❝ i want to be strong like you. ❞ ❝ what’s all this? isn’t this a little risky? ❞ ❝ it’s no use playing innocent. ❞ ❝ you have something beautiful deep inside you. it’s hard for some people to tell, but it’s there. ❞ ❝ you’re trembling. ❞ ❝ how do you know so much about me? ❞ ❝ i’m okay. it takes more than to kill me. ❞ ❝ ‘survival of the fittest’ is the law of nature. ❞ ❝ i want to live my own life, make my own decisions…even if they are terrible mistakes. ❞ ❝ hey, thanks a lot for the warm welcome. ❞ ❝ what makes you think you can do whatever the hell you like? ❞ ❝ you’re just walking trouble, so stay out of it. ❞ ❝ i said i don’t feel like doing this. ❞ ❝ you’re just afraid they’ll abandon you, so you abandon them. ❞ ❝ and you trust me just like that? ❞ ❝ i never did understand you, right to the very end. ❞ ❝ unfortunately, we quickly forget the lessons we learn, and then we have to learn them all over again. ❞ ❝ you’ll survive this. be strong. ❞ ❝ how many lies are you going to tell me before you’re done? ❞ ❝ remember: i will always be cheering you on. ❞ ❝ what do you get by running away? ❞ ❝ do people ever tell you that you’re the silent type? ❞ ❝ i get a strange feeling when i look in your eyes. ❞ ❝ this time, i hope you have sweet dreams. ❞ ❝ will you rescue me if someone goes wrong? ❞ ❝ do you want to know a secret about my past? ❞ ❝ even if you play by the rules, nothing gets solved. ❞ ❝ you’re gonna carry that weight. ❞ ❝ so, you were going to betray me? ❞ ❝ that arrogance of yours will be your ruin. ❞ ❝ you’re the only one i can turn to for help right now. ❞ ❝ i’m not the delicate cautious type. ❞ ❝ i…can’t come with you. ❞ ❝ my love for you burns strong. ❞ ❝ they say ghosts appear in places where they have regrets. ❞ ❝ in this world, people must cherish whatever ties they have. ❞ ❝ you’re the one person i could never forgive. ❞ ❝ serves you right. this is poetic justice. ❞ ❝ i’ve got no place to stay. ❞ ❝ we’ll leave here and get out of this. ❞ ❝ what makes you think that you know anything about me? ❞ ❝ i’m telling you this for your own good. if you’re smart, you’ll stay out of it. ❞ ❝ of course, i can see now how stupid i was. ❞ ❝ did you sleep well? ❞ ❝ keep dreaming. it’s never going to happen. ❞ ❝ sometimes it’s good not to ask ‘what’s in it for me?’ ❞ ❝ does it look like i’m joking around? ❞ ❝ all is fair in love and war. ❞ ❝ i’m just glad you’re safe. ❞ ❝ maybe this is the one i won’t come back from. ❞ ❝ it’s no use. there’s nothing we can do. ❞ ❝ what a smile. so sad…so beautiful. ❞ ❝ i know why you’re here. ❞ ❝ well, it looks like all my good karma is finally paying off. ❞  ❝ could you be a little quieter, please? ❞ ❝ if we do not show fear, it casts its eye upon us gently and then guides us into infinity. ❞ ❝ i’ll take care of this. you can go back. ❞ ❝ this is the real world. this is no place for pretty ideals. ❞ ❝ i’m just watching a bad dream i never wake up from. ❞ ❝ for once, just stick to the plan. ❞ ❝ this is the first time i agree with you on something. ❞ ❝ you haven’t changed, huh? ❞ ❝ maybe…or maybe that’s just part of the legend. ❞ ❝ if i get caught, nothing can save me. nothing. ❞

[artifye-deactivated20250816]

akechi is like a two way mirror, he has thought this for a long time — before the parties and formalities and a commission his mentor insisted on despite its lack of inspiration; something scrutinizes from behind the glass, and yusuke only notices because he is used to critical eyes as a young, forward-facing artist. the sketchpad and pencil idle in his hands, eyes glued to the smile the other wears like a stretched out mask.

it's something about the eyes, he thinks, raising his eraser like a leveler, or is it about the effortless shift of expression?

❝ i understand the character just fine, ❞ he interjects, curt and yet absent, ❝ but that isn't enough. there's a problem with the model. i can't seem to draw you smiling. ❞

[rejusticed]

most days, akechi tries not to examine his feelings toward his public persona. even if he detests-loathes-hates it, it’s just another role to play if he wants to succeed on the stage that was his life. he knows how he must come off; he’s heard what critics say when they couldn’t be bought off, (fake, plastic, shallow) but being anything other than pleasant and agreeable at all times would tank his image would end his career would disappoint his benefactor, and masayoshi shido has creative ideas for his future should his trajectory as an actor end by going up in flames. akechi’s not entirely keen on exploring those alternatives.

he’s walking a tightrope in this scene, after all, and in the next one, and the next, ad infinitum. piece them together and you have the story of akechi goro, actor and rising star.

but contrary to how effortless he makes it seem, keeping up the mask for extended periods of time does get wearisome when he’s not actively involved in a scene. not to mention, his partner in this one refuses to play along. the smile begins to dim.

“i don’t understand,” the character says, lips still politely quirked upward. remember your role, he reminds himself, clamping down tight on the irritation that was beginning to bubble up. it was always these damned artist types. “i’m smiling right now, though?”

[rejusticed]

WENNIE WRITING ON THE TL OH LIFE IS SO GOOD

GOOD MARI MONDAY I LOVE YOU BTW BTW BTW!!!

[rejusticed]

there was no other way to put it: kitagawa was a fascinating character, a talented artist in his own right, but entirely unfathomable to akechi. perhaps he was still too naive, to believe that he, by virtue of being able to switch out masks at the drop of a hat, was capable of seeing through anyone’s mask. because even if he couldn’t unravel it, kitagawa had to be putting on an act.

well, he did seem like the eccentric type, but no one could possibly be so incapable of reading the room and still make it this far into a career under the public eye. regardless, if there was something akechi was accustomed to, it was accommodating the selfish whims of others.

the actor shifts, his mask morphing into a pleasant smile. “is something wrong?” akechi offers, “i’m happy to discuss my characterization of the role if it would help you pin down the expression you’d like to see.”

@artifye ♡

[rejusticed]

when akechi had first discovered the club, he’d been drawn in by its music, the grand piano catching his eye immediately as he entered. the atmosphere was relaxing and just what he needed, he found, and the dim lighting suited his intention to remain inconspicuous. from there it was only natural progression that akechi became a regular. the table next to the piano wasn’t reserved for him, exactly, but jazz jin had a select enough clientele that the other patrons had established their own preferred seats, and there was an unspoken consensus that any rocking of the boat would not be well received.

there was something about kurusu, though, that akechi didn’t feel that inclination to put on a mask and shy away from at that first meeting. so maybe he was playing a game of chicken on his own, approaching the then-stranger with the intention of intimidating him away from his table (however unofficial), but kurusu had been more than willing to take akechi’s dismissal at face value. (granted, he’d been passive aggressive about it, saying “oh, it’s no matter, i’m sure we can share” when he meant “i was here first, get your own table”.)

and then, equally naturally, to akechi’s considerable bewilderment as to how it happened, kurusu carved a space for himself at akechi’s table.

where before he’d glanced first at the stage to see if he recognized the singer, these days akechi finds his gaze pulled to his usual table, searching for that familiar face that had now come to accompany it, and somehow, by the time he realized it, whether or not kurusu was there determined his mood for the day.

today, he’s pleased to see the familiar mop of dark hair already there.

“i hope you haven’t missed me too much,” akechi says with a light smile, setting his briefcase down before taking his seat, “…just kidding, of course. i know we haven’t agreed to a schedule for meeting up, but i do feel sorry about disappearing all of a sudden. it’s finals week, and you know how busy it gets around this time, haha.”

it’s not the first time he’s fished for information from kurusu, and at this point, akechi recognizes it as a game they’re playing, to see how little each side can give in this game of tug-of-war. “ah, i didn’t mean to make the conversation about me. what about you? have you been dropping by the club as often these days?”

@piliyi,  for akira ♡

[lightsmartyr-deactivated2025081]

if given the opportunity, yusuke wonders: how would he paint goro akechi? against this bleeding backdrop, the face sharp and eyes worn out — macabre and torn open like a scream, a methodical undoing — with a debate of vibrancy to dullness, burning to ice; the artistic lens is inherently objectifying, he learns, forced to, exploratory and, at times, tender with understanding and, at times, cruel with degradation. akechi is the ideal subject of a tragic, vengeful piece. before, yusuke wanted to paint something eternally, unquestioningly beautiful; now, yusuke isn’t sure when to lean off the reds, the quick lines, how to divide bitterness from brushstroke.

[ “art is a process, as is grief,” his instructors say, and in them he sees old, kind eyes. “teacher,” he tries and his tongue swells, eyes bulge, and his throat closes. the days leading to madarame’s change pull cross and thin, and in them yusuke paints too many portraits with the eyes and hearts slashed out. ]

his head tilts, stare long yet without judgement— waiting for anything that speaks back. ❝ crystal clear, ❞ drawls, and it feels like a truce, ❝ i do admire your directness, akechi. ❞

❝ dr. maruki was employed at shujin, so the others would know more than i. still … i did meet him once, when my curiosity got the better of me. ❞ he remembers: the tolerant confusion, prompting, soft, and patient — how maruki gazes beyond the fragile ice. ❝ he was humble, considerate, a bit clumsy. i found him refreshing compared to the adults we dedicated ourselves to stopping. yet, as always, here we are again: a palace, its ruler, and the desires he keeps. ❞

yusuke is tired, and yusuke is young; maybe maruki realized all of that the moment they met.

❝ he asked me what i wished for, ❞ a pause, the words straightforward and vulnerable, ❝ then he granted it. ❞ with the sun bowing, the halo of color begins blackening into a speckled void. the stars are visible in this reality, ringed in a faint and eerie glow. what would akechi wish for, given the chance? all of it wiped clean and vacant, another blank canvas scorned? ❝ lukewarm, ❞ he decides, lifting hands and tracing where the night contorts and frays and peels back, ❝ yes, desperate to mend, heal. that’s how i know it will hurt akira to face him. i hope you can help him in the ways we cannot. ❞

[rejusticed]

kitagawa could do with learning to bite some hands that feed him, akechi thinks, or one day he’ll choke on the poison that comes with forgiving someone who hasn’t changed their spots. it speaks to their newfound budding relationship that akechi hopes he won’t be around by then to see it happen.

some part of him, probably the remaining vestiges of his rational side, thinks the offer of a truce should sicken him. thinks, why couldn’t they just let him have his moment of defeat, did they have to offer him a lifeline instead of flaunting their victory? he knows how to deal with sore winners; akechi doesn’t have a problem biting the hand that feeds him. what he doesn’t know what to do with is this shōnen protagonist energy shit. it should be humiliating, to lose and have no choice but to crawl to the thing that defeated him, but mostly he finds that he’s ambivalent about it.

well, akechi’s stooped to lower levels, and with worse people. he hopes this will be the last time he’ll have to, even with present company.

more inexplicable is this thing that’s seeped into him like a toxin: this ill-founded trust they have in him to not screw them over, despite his history of having done just that multiple times over. against everything in his head screaming for him not to take comfort in it, akechi can’t help that small part of him that still craves camaraderie. you can still be saved, the spark of hope whispers, sounding suspiciously like joker, i’d be willing to save you.

if akechi were a better person, someone who had that same faith in the phantom thieves as they had in him, he would tell them that he’s a dead man walking. he’d offer them the opportunity and the time to mull it over, decide what his life is worth. but then again, if akechi were a worse person, he’d be fighting on maruki’s side. so he supposes they could be doing worse.

“i’ll keep that in mind,” he says, feeling a new kind of exhausted. of the fighting, of throwing away the pride he keeps finding new places to scrape raw of, of having to trudge his way through this world that barely wants him, and that he doesn’t want in return. more immediately, though, akechi is tired of being at odds with kitagawa, who’s proven himself to want the same thing akechi does. he can start giving that trust back, little by little.

so akechi sits through kitagawa’s narration with great patience, muting the running commentary in his head that prompts him to mock.

oh, no, comes the dawning of a horrifying realization at its end, leaving akechi dismayed as he considers the information kitagawa lays before him, i’m going to have to talk to the rest of them and find out what they wished for. he feels like he’s gone through a whole hero’s journey, as a person, just hearing kitagawa out, and he suspects that the artist may be one of the more tolerable of the bunch.

when it rains, it pours: title of goro’s damn autobiography.

“here we are again,” akechi echoes in disbelief. maybe he’d spoken too soon about not sticking around long enough to witness kitagawa being poisoned by the fruits of his own labor: it seemed maruki beat him to the punch in action.

“you can’t say all that and not tell me what you wished for,” akechi points out, “loving mentor, sure, but how much detail did you give him for him to bring it to life? is he drawing from his perception of you, or feeding directly off your desire? we need to figure out how his powers work, or fighting him will be futile when he manipulates some kind of invincible gundam machine into reality because that’s what he wished for.”

“and,” akechi continues before he can second-guess himself, thoughts running a mile a minute somewhere along the tracks of trust and openness and placing his cards face-up on the table, thinking if they figure it out then at least the ball will be in their court, “i care about kurusu. i do, against my better judgement. but at the end of this, i can’t help him.” he lets that simmer, using the moment to slip a smile back on. “still, i’m sure the rest of you will figure something out. that’s what you guys do, isn’t it?”

[rejusticed]

@aicidos, continued.

“no need to look so concerned. i was only joking,” akechi laughs lightly, and in a manner contrary to his words, runs the comb through kurusu’s hair with a perfunctory swipe. it does nothing to neaten the messy look that seemed to be a permanent fixture, but it wasn’t meant to be more than an opening act. then, carefully, akechi brushes most of the hair resting on kurusu’s forehead back, using a hand to secure it against the top of his head. he shifts to the side for better access, tilting kurusu’s head this way and that in examination with a low, contemplative hum.

how easy would it be to kill him now, akechi thinks, with his throat bared like this, inviting. what a fool, trusting akechi like this. akechi has plans upon plans to set kurusu’s downfall in motion, and it starts with:

“ah, only the part about the bangs. as for the rest, i came prepared, of course.” he holds up his briefcase, setting it atop the counter where he proceeds to click it open. without further preamble, akechi picks out a hairpin and neatly slots it in place of his hand, pinning part of kurusu’s fringe away. then, after brushing the rest of his hair to the sides and pinning them there as well, akechi fishes the centerpiece of this endeavor out from his assortment of supplies.

“do you know they sell wigs styled after me? i was certainly surprised when i found out, haha.”

[rejusticed]

from the outside looking in, the existence of akechi goro was a reel of film, a seamless transition of events that progressed naturally along the narrative.

that the reel was composed of two strips of film — overlaid carefully so one could fill in where the other lacked to create a complete whole — that, no one but ohta and sei themselves knew. there could not be one without the other, but when circumstances dictated that there could not be both at the same time either, they’d had to find a way, and so they alternated scenes between themselves, playing their respective roles of black mask and detective prince in the life of akechi goro.

for a while, it’s almost a good life. sure, they’re driven by rage and grief and vengeance, but it kept them going, and they had each other. sei was cautiously optimistic at the best of times and a resigned realist at worst, but he could’ve lived with it if the worst case scenario was a corrupt politician winning an election. that wasn’t anything new, even if the corrupt politician in question was someone he wanted to destroy. there’d be time and chances for that, even after.

and then, there was the phantom thieves. and then, there was shido’s palace. and then,

they say the events of your life flashes by like a movie when you’ve reached the end of it. sei wonders if akechi goro’s was supposed to end like this, with an abrupt act of violence by a shadow of them, an uninvited third, the reel concluding on a jagged edge that took away half of him but left the other half intact. he wonders who has it worse. (he thinks the fact that he can wonder this makes the answer obvious.)

before, sei had thought he’d known what it was like to be empty. he didn't know, then, what it was like to be gutted entirely, his insides scraped hollow with loss. he didn’t know then the depths of which emptiness could fill, the void so consuming he felt sometimes like he wasn’t a person at all, just the void.

even when he had nothing but his rage, his grief, his thirst for vengeance; he'd had ohta to share it with.

and then he didn't, and sei hadn't known what to do with that. he was half tempted to drown on that boat. if he'd had a choice- (if he could do it over, sei would have made sure he takes the bullet instead.)

and then maruki happens, and now there’s this bullshit.

ohta was dead, and suddenly he isn’t.

(something is wrong,)

“hey, asshole,” sei greets his brother, the other half of him, lips twitching in a way that’s somewhere between fondness and anger, gaze something like hope, something like devastation.

he knows from the depths of his soul that this will end where it started: with one of them dying for the other.

(if he could do it over,)

“if you die on me again, i’ll kill you.”

now sei just has to make sure the one who dies is him. there has to be a reason he was given another chance, after all. and in the end, all he has to fool is one man.

@justpyre, i would say this was unprompted but it very much was prompted by you (proof attached). so i did with it what i will. happy 2/2 ♡

[lightsmartyr-deactivated2025081]

his switch of expressions is as artful as terrifying, a serrated blade disguised as a butter knife: thin, shallow, until its teeth find stability and gnaw their way to the bone. akechi is a beacon of justice, an image of polite youth; blink and akechi is red bleeding black, an inscrutable anger. ( bottomless, yusuke realizes, finally grasps the word, is there no end to the violence you’ve made your existence? and then, who would you be if not wrath and the pain it precedes? and then, could we not breach that depth to find out? and then, if not for that faithful encounter, if not for them, would i also— )

❝ it’s true your abilities and knowledge exceed ours. be that as it may, i have no intention of disappointing myself further. ❞ should he be offended when this is the truest he’s seen akechi since the engine room, since he’s tried to forget the clang of a door descending and a shot ringing out? he knows what the others would say: that akechi came to them. yusuke knows this isn’t true; his bid for assistance, or whichever name he chooses for it, was to akira alone.

yusuke doesn’t envy that. akira is open and kind in ways others cannot be without destroying themselves.

❝ so don’t patronize me either. ❞ he will never let a frame inform his reach again, regardless of who hangs it. there’s too many regrets already. ❝ what we lack in experience we make up for in tenacity. that’s something you know quite well. that tenacity broke our disillusionment with reality, though i wonder if maruki wanted subjugation at all with how simple it was. i barely knew him, yet he struck me as sure in his convictions, desperate to be of help. in some ways, not unlike akira; in some ways, not unlike yourself. ❞ a smile, private, almost teasing. ❝ stubborn. ❞

[rejusticed]

the realization strikes him like a bolt of lightning, sudden and unexpected: kitagawa is someone he could come to respect. hell of an inconvenient time for it, but when has life ever considered him worthy of consideration? everything he had, akechi had to fight for himself — this was what pisses him off the most, he thinks, about the phantom thieves: that someone came and saved them.

then comes the rolling thunder, the roiling anger that follows in the pits of his gut. where were the phantom thieves when he needed- immediately, akechi shakes his head to clear away the thought, suppressing it so far down that he’d have to dig deep to reach it again. he wasn’t about to make a habit of dwelling on the past; it mattered so very little. reality itself was already so fickle. it was taking all he had not to question everything he knew in this warped world, and kitagawa was so self-sure, so certain in his own convictions — ha, the irony! — that akechi recognized the futility of even trying to question him.

and he supposed he never knew the artist from the beginning. that akechi, too, had deluded himself with the garish portrait of kitagawa in madarame’s gallery, had seen him in two dimensions and painted him with the same brush in imitation, never allowing him the room to grow beyond that frame. first impressions tend to stick, and akechi, tv star and detective prince and brief sensation, he knew this all too well; but it was only in hindsight that he realized he’d been just as much of a fool as those he had manipulated.

having shoved the thunder away, all that was left now was a clear sky — an emptiness. akechi feels that the most, most of the time.

“haha,” he huffs weakly in response, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palms. “great. as long as we’re clear.” looking back, this development between them was terrifying and electric and undeniably inevitable. it was his defeat. there was never any other version of this where the outcome was different. akechi knew when he had lost, and surrendered.

if he hadn’t witnessed kitagawa’s shrewdness for himself, akechi would be doubting his ability as a judge of character. maruki, desperate to be of help: to that end, what did bringing akechi back achieve?

using his budding, newfound respect for kitagawa, akechi tries for civility. speaks, with a wry smile, “you know how it goes: the road to hell is paved with good intentions. but i can’t say i’ve had the opportunity to get to know him, so i’ll require more from you than tenacity. care to share what else you have on him?”

[aicidos]

he can always hold akechi's gaze—the strange, inexplicable weight of it—without faltering. only this time, the intent staring doesn't feel out of akira's own will. chains, holding him in place. in those moments, those terrible seconds of utter quiet, of slipping into character, akira thinks of something swelling. he thinks of the citrus notes in today's specialty coffee, the cause of this acidity, how it still warms their cups, draws gentle figures in the steam it releases. he thinks of great distances. he thinks, or rather, wonders, of ends and beginnings. what he doesn’t think of: hate. that kind of strangulation.

a slow, passive blink on a face that has foregone his glasses for the evening. so, he thinks, the act ends. 

"...i can tell you've rehearsed it," a way of not calling it believable outright. and akira should know— he dares to say unthinkable (ridiculous) things with a straight face. never quite that, however. “who knows, maybe they chose you as a challenge of sorts.” he pauses, lifts his coffee, leaves it there, hovering under his lips. “i wouldn’t immediately think of casting you as a villain, either,” and takes a slow sip, breaking eye contact briefly. “but maybe being the hero would be too on the nose. in their minds, that’s probably what you’re like every day anyway, right? heroic and whatnot.” he leans on the table, and knows he’s stalling something, only he can’t name it with precision. it almost makes him smile, the amusement he feels at himself. “but nevermind what they want for you. what role would akechi-san want for himself?”

[rejusticed]

kurusu is a difficult man to pin down: one with as many masks as him must be, akechi supposed. even with glasses off, akechi feels less like he’s looking at kurusu than he feels kurusu’s gaze piercing through him. here akechi was, actually trying to be threatening, drawing from a genuine wealth of hatred he kept at bay all the time, and kurusu doesn’t even flinch.

then, as kurusu is wont to do, he cuts straight to the heart of it.

“you’re not wrong,” akechi’s lips twitch as his attempt at fighting a smile fails, his gaze trailing down kurusu’s hand to the cup of coffee held in it. akechi itches for one of his own, but this late into the night a second cup could only be a bad idea. (he’d already let himself indulge in other vices, namely: engaging with kurusu past leblanc’s closing time.) he hums, “i guess i can’t hide it forever. it’s a classic villain turns hero play, so i’m not just the villain. i figure the hero part will be child’s play for me, as you say, so it was just the first act i was concerned about.”

something about the phrasing gives him pause, spooling his thoughts around it into a tangled knot. “in their minds?” akechi repeats slowly, tasting the words before he lets them go. in spite of the lack of caffeine, the implications leave behind a bitter aftertaste. (the question: what role does he want for himself? the answer: as if akechi has ever belonged to himself. the answer: it doesn’t matter. hero, villain, martyr or soldier, he would be a puppet either way. what he wanted was to run a blade through the strings.) akechi ignores kurusu’s question in favor of posing one of his own: “you have a way of implying things, kurusu-kun. i suppose the logical question i should be asking next is: what do i look like, in yours?”